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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25844029">In sickness and in health</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse'>PenguinofProse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Season 7 speculation [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Episode speculation: Etherea, F/M, S7 speculation, best friends obvs, caveman Bellamy, doctor!clarke, does Clarke Griffin ever break?, overprotective Clarke, that must be a tag by now</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:56:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25844029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke insists on taking Bellamy to med bay for a check up when he gets back to Bardo from Etherea.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Season 7 speculation [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>162</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In sickness and in health</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here we have Clarke making a fuss of Bellamy when he returns from his misadventures on Etherea. Happy reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Mr Blake, please head straight to medical to get checked over." A stranger dressed in white requests, almost before the green glow of the anomaly has faded.</p><p>Bellamy isn't sick. He's <em>fine</em>. Yeah, sure, he's a bit tired and probably somewhat malnourished – but he maintains that he isn't sick. He doesn't need to go to medical.</p><p>He wants to get straight on with helping Clarke figure out what to do next.</p><p>"I'm fine." He says in the end, hoping he sounds suitably confident about that.</p><p>"Please head to medical." That white-clothed stranger repeats.</p><p>"You should go to medical." Clarke joins in, damn it. He expected her to be on his side. "Come on, I'll go with you."</p><p>The man in white doesn't like that. "Clarke, we had our deal. You're -"</p><p>"Cadogan. I'm taking Bellamy to medical. And I'm going to be the one to check him over. We're done here." She declares, and starts moving towards the door.</p><p>The man called Cadogan seems to know he's beaten, then. He gives a short laugh. "Best friends. I see. On you go. I'll see you back here in a moment."</p><p>Bellamy doesn't know what to make of that. This whole interaction has really hit him for six, if he's being honest. He expected to come back here to Clarke and the leaders of Bardo as enemies, and to step up and support Clarke right away. That's how these situations usually pan out, in his experience. But instead Cadogan seems to be treading carefully around Clarke as if he cannot afford to antagonise her too much, and Clarke seems to be taking the lead.</p><p>Yeah, he's always liked watching Clarke take charge more than he probably should.</p><p>He shakes his head and follows Clarke into the corridor. He feels a little pathetic, wandering after her in confusion like this, and he doesn't like it. But most pathetic of all, he finds himself stuck on something Cadogan just said.</p><p>"Best friends?" He asks, when the two of them are well down the hallway and out of earshot of the others in the stone room. "You said we're best friends?"</p><p>He can't decide how he feels about that – somewhere between flattered that she marked him out as having particular importance to her, and hurt that she thinks of him as a <em>friend</em> and not the love of her life. And the two emotions combine to make him feel even more flustered than ever, and all in all, his return to Bardo is not going to plan.</p><p>"What else was I going to call you?" She asks – almost snaps, in fact.</p><p>He supposes that's valid question. He's technically still with Echo, after all. He should probably take care of that, just as soon as they finish saving the human race yet again.</p><p>He fishes desperately for something to say. Should he tell her she's his best friend, too? No, that sounds far too much like a desperate kid in the school common room for his liking, and besides which, he doesn't want to discourage her from ever thinking of him in a less platonic light.</p><p>She's striding down the hallway, presumably towards medical. She seems annoyed, somehow, or maybe she's just hurting and trying not to show it. She's had a tough few days, after all. Either way, she hardly looks ready to have a complex conversation about their friendship, or whatever the hell it is that lies between them.</p><p>"Clarke." He says, just that. Just her name, tone gentle yet commanding, he hopes.</p><p>It works. She stops walking, turns to him with a look that tells him whatever he has to say had better be good.</p><p>He has nothing to say, as it happens. He just thinks they need to take a moment and share a hug. He steps closer, wraps his arms around her. He knows this is risky – she's clearly in a bad place, and they haven't talked about what the hell is going on, and apart from anything else he must stink after all that time on Etherea. But hugging has always helped them in the past, and he thinks it will help them now, too.</p><p>She seems to agree with him, hugging him back tightly. Her face is nestled against his neck, and her hands are around his waist, and he takes a moment to cup the back of her head with his hand and feel the softness of her hair beneath his fingertips.</p><p>"You're alive." She whispers, as if she still can't believe it.</p><p>"Yeah. Still breathing."</p><p>She gives a long sigh, squeezes her arms about his waist one more time. And then she pulls back and sets off down the hallway once more.</p><p>Her pace is less frantic, this time, but all the same she is not moving slowly so they arrive at med bay before long. The nurse at the front desk takes one look at the two of them and reaches for her intercom.</p><p>"Cadogan sent us. Bellamy needs a check up. I'll be taking care of him and we don't need any of your doctors." Clarke informs the poor woman, in a tone that brooks no disagreement.</p><p>They are waved into a consultation room without further argument.</p><p>Bellamy goes grudgingly into the room behind Clarke. He's not sick, after all. He doesn't need to be here. He wants to get on with helping her out with the issues that really matter, not stand around all day letting her make a fuss of him.</p><p>"Could you – uh – maybe take some layers off?" She asks, with a gesture at his ridiculous furs.</p><p>Right. Yeah. He really doesn't see why this unnecessary appointment couldn't have waited until after he washed and changed. And he'd have quite liked to get a hair cut first, too. He must look absurd, he frets.</p><p>He takes off his outermost layer, but she's still standing there staring at him as if she expects more. She's picked up a stethoscope, too, and he understands that is probably something she won't be using through multiple layers of clothing.</p><p>He peels off his jacket. And then he peels off his overshirt. And then he keeps going, layer by layer, until he's wearing only underwear before her.</p><p>He has to admit, this is not quite how he imagined undressing in front of Clarke for the first time.</p><p>"This OK?" He asks, voice hoarse.</p><p>He watches her swallow. "Yeah. Yeah, fine."</p><p>She steps forward, starts touching him tentatively, taking his pulse, listening to his heartbeat, prodding at his skin for reasons he cannot entirely work out. It's all a bit much, dangerously close to overloading his already disorientated senses.</p><p>Clarke's touching him. <em>Clarke</em>.</p><p>Her fingers are gentle, just like he always knew they would be. And she's so close to him, her head just inches from his chest. It would be so easy to tilt her face towards him for a kiss, right now. He can't. He mustn't. He ought to -</p><p>"Bellamy?" Her voice breaks into his thoughts. She sounds scared, and small, and he doesn't like it.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Is this scar new?" She's running her fingers along the rough scar that slices across his stomach. Damn it – he should have realised she would notice that. It's hardly discreet. But in the excitement of having her close he wasn't exactly thinking straight.</p><p>"Not that new. I got it the day after I arrived on Etherea. First time I tried to climb back to the anomaly." He croaks out.</p><p>"You fell?" She guesses.</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>She sucks in a breath. "And this scar?" She touches another, the jagged tear on his right bicep.</p><p>"That was the fourth time I tried to climb. Or maybe the fifth." There were so many attempts, leaving so many scars, that he loses count, these days.</p><p>"And this?" She takes his hand in hers, traces the partially-healed graze on his palm.</p><p>"Last week. About two hundred or so, I guess."</p><p>She breaks, then, gulping down frantic sobs. Acting on instinct, he takes her into his arms. He didn't mean to upset her – he would never mean to upset her. But he doesn't see the point in hiding the truth about his misadventures on Etherea. They have always been honest with each other, before now.</p><p>"You're OK." He whispers against her hair. "You're safe. I've got you."</p><p>She gives a damp chuckle. "Never mind me. <em>You're</em> alive."</p><p>"Yeah. I am." He confirms, holding her ever tighter.</p><p>She stays there in his embrace for a long time. He thinks that's probably for the best – partly because he likes hugging her, but largely because she doesn't seem to be doing too well. He noticed that earlier, and this meltdown has only confirmed it. In a funny kind of way, he's glad she's having a good long cry and letting it all out. He didn't see her grieve properly for her mother before he left Sanctum, and if he knows Clarke, she tried not to – probably tried to keep calm and push the pain away, instead. And since then she was told he was dead, too, and he figures that even if she only thinks of him as her best friend, that must still have hit her pretty hard.</p><p>"I'm sorry." She murmurs, when she's about done.</p><p>"Don't be. I'm always here if you need a cry and a hug." He puts into words what has been true almost since the first month they met.</p><p>She gives him a shaky smile, retreats back to playing with her stethoscope.</p><p>"You should have a blood test." She suggests.</p><p>"OK."</p><p>"And then you should take some vitamins. You must be short of vitamin C by now if nothing else."</p><p>"OK."</p><p>There's a moment's silence. She plays with the stethoscope, turning it in her hands for something to do. Bellamy stares down at his bare chest and finds himself understanding why she cried. He does look pretty beat up, these days, he has to admit it. His ribs are jutting out, where there used to be firm muscle, and his skin is a patchwork of scars. He wishes he looked better – not just because he's made her cry, but also because he doesn't exactly feel attractive right now.</p><p>Clarke breaks the silence, in a tentative voice he scarcely recognises.</p><p>"How did you do it?" She asks. "When you thought I was dead? How did you just box it up and move on?"</p><p>He gives a hollow laugh. "I didn't. I spent three hours crying on a bench in Sanctum. It was awful." He takes a deep breath. "I spent three <em>years</em> crying every night on the Ring, but I don't think the others ever realised that."</p><p>She nods. "I couldn't do it, either. Everyone's been looking at me to keep being myself, keep making the decisions. And all I could think was that – that you were dead. That you'd died without – without -"</p><p>She starts crying again, but more softly this time. He steps forward, ready to take her in his arms once more, but she holds out a hand to stop him.</p><p>She visibly gathers her courage. "That you'd died without me ever telling you how much I love you."</p><p>He stares at her for a long second, utterly shocked. Never in his dizziest daydreams did he dare to imagine that they might actually end up here. He sort of thought they were fated always to miss their chance, like ships passing in the night, for ever and ever until one of them eventually went and died for real.</p><p>"I love you, too." He says, throat thick with tears of joy and utter disbelief. "I thought that, too. That's why – that's why it was so hard, every time I thought I lost you."</p><p>They stand there, a yard apart, just looking at each other. He can hear them both breathing, can hear a clock ticking somewhere behind him.</p><p>And then, all at once, they both snap. He's not sure who moves first, but suddenly they're pressed up against each other, chest to chest, lips to lips, kissing frantically. It's urgent, and more than a little messy, but it's good, he decides. He's been waiting a lifetime for this, give or take a century or two. And based on Clarke's eagerness, he cannot help but presume she's feeling much the same.</p><p>Strangely, it feels even more special because he knows he's such a mess right now. If she's this desperate to kiss him while he's unwashed and unshaven, she must really love him, he decides.</p><p>She pulls away first, to his disappointment.</p><p>"I should finish your check up." She says, soft.</p><p>"I'm not sick." He protests, because she still doesn't seem to have noticed that.</p><p>"Let me be the judge of that." She snaps, then continues more gently. "Just let me check, OK? Let me put my mind at rest."</p><p>He sighs. He can understand that – he gets worried about her wellbeing, too. But he's really not sick and he wants to get on with kissing and showering and saving their people – preferably in that order.</p><p>"At least let me see to your hand." She says, half way to begging.</p><p>He gives in, at that, offers up his grazed palm for her attention. She takes his hand, almost cradling it in her fingers, and gets to work on cleaning it. He thinks it's a bit late to be cleaning it, really – this wound is old news to him, by now. But she's determined, and there's something rather lovely about having her gently taking care of him, so he decides to let her win this one.</p><p>"What's next?" He asks quietly, while she works. He's not sure what he's really asking – what's next for them, what's next for their people, or what their immediate next step will be the second they step out of this room. Perhaps a mixture of all three.</p><p>"We get our friends out of here." She seems strangely calm as she answers. Now she's convinced herself he's not dead, nor in imminent danger of dying, and they've tried a bit of kissing, she appears to be finding it much easier to hold it together.</p><p>"How? And what happens after that? What's this test they're talking about?"</p><p>She's finished tending to his hand, now, but she keeps hold of it. She raises it to her lips, in fact, presses one soft kiss to his knuckles. And then, still holding his hand, she looks him right in the eyes.</p><p>"We'll work it out. We always do. And when we've worked it out we go home."</p><p>He sighs, allows himself to close his eyes for a moment. Home – he likes the sound of that. Home with Clarke, and peace, and a bright future ahead of them.</p><p>"I need to shower." He points out. "And break up with Echo. And get a haircut. Should I do those things before we save the human race or after?"</p><p>Clarke treats him to a smile, then, just the slightest curving of her lips. Sure, the situation is at least a little desperate, but they wouldn't be Clarke and Bellamy if they didn't share humour and hope in the face of disaster.</p><p>"I really don't care what order you do it in, as long as I don't have to let you out of my sight." She tells him, and he doesn't think she's joking.</p><p>"Really? You're going to join me in the shower?" He certainly wouldn't complain about that.</p><p>She nudges him affectionately with her shoulder, starts leading him by the hand back towards the door without giving him the chance to reclaim any of his filthy clothes. He guesses he won't need them, if their next stop is the shower.

"Come on." She says, in that commanding tone of hers. "We're not going to achieve anything standing around in medical all day."</p><p>He grins and allows himself to be led out of the door. He didn't want to come here anyway, but he's not going to remind her of that. She's had a stressful few days, and he wouldn't want to start a fight with her over something so trivial. But, for the record, this was her idea, not his. He's not sick in the slightest – in fact, he's never felt better.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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